Getting back to last weekend for my husband's much needed weekend off...
After the camping debate, he finally agreed to NOT camp by himself, but still surf Friday afternoon, evening, and Saturday. Perfect. I'm happy with that. We spoke to each other Saturday morning and then sent each other text messages throughout the day. I think we spoke to each other Saturday evening, but I can't really remember. Sunday morning, for sure. (We're not a super chatty team on the phone, by the way. I've been told that we're odd for not talking to each other more throughout the day, but we've never been that way, so...oh, well.)
Here's where it gets good, I promise...
I didn't hear from him during the day on Sunday. This wasn't a big deal, but then I never heard from him that night, either. I called and texted him a couple of times, but got nothin'! What the hell?! My sister called me because she had a phone conversation with him. She was trying to get him to answer a question she had about some medical research thing she was working on and all he kept saying was "it's fine, it's fine." She said he was talking gibberish for 45 minutes, never answered her question, and so she finally gave up.
Finally, he calls me Monday morning at about 7am. After my refresher on why it's important for him to check in with me and blah, blah, blah, his response was simple, really:
"Well, Babe, I'm sorry. I remember looking to my right. I remember looking to my left. I didn't see my wife or my baby, so I just told the bartender to keep 'em comin'."
Oh.my.gosh. Really? Needless to say, he wasn't feeling too hot that day.
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